Page 71 of Arcane Entanglement
A dozen constables emerged from the wagon. They were led by the gruff-looking sergeant Viggo recognised from his visit to Scotland Yard the day before. Over half of the officers fanned out, creating a perimeter around the church fence. Evander and Rufus entered the churchyard with Griffiths and the rest of the constables.
A figure wearing a cassock emerged from the building and came swiftly down the path to meet them.
Evander and Rufus stopped and exchanged words with the priest. The man nodded jerkily and gestured towards the church entrance.
They followed him inside.
“Time to move.” Viggo pushed away from the wall a couple of minutes later. “We should take a look at the back and?—”
His words were cut off by a deafening explosion that shook the very ground beneath their feet. The windows of the church exploded outward in a shower of flames and broken glass.
Horror squeezed Viggo’s heart.
“Evander!”
He sprinted towards the burning building, all semblance of stealth forgotten.
Evander frownedat the neighbourhood the carriage navigated on their approach to the church. The warren of filthy streets and their overcrowded, crumbling tenements spoke volumes about the desperate conditions in this part of London.
It was a sobering contrast to the world he and Rufus had just left.
“I wonder who sent that letter,” Rufus said distractedly opposite him.
The constable who’d taken delivery of the anonymous missive outside the entrance to Scotland Yard reported it’d been brought by a messenger boy. The chances of finding the lad amidst the hustle and bustle of London was virtually non-existent.
Though they’d left the letter with Shaw and the alchemists of the AFD in the hope they might be able to trace the item back to its source, Evander suspected they would reach a dead end.
Something about the whole affair troubled him.
The timing of the letter seemed preordained at best and dubious at worse. Still, they could hardly ignore it.
The church appeared around the corner of a slope. It straddled a low bank, its grounds sparse but for crowded gravestones and an oak tree with bare branches. The police wagon they were following stopped outside the gated fence a moment later. Sergeant Griffiths rallied the constables as Evander exited the carriage with Rufus.
He ignored the burning and, in some cases, frankly reverential glances several of the officers stole at him. Griffiths quelled the men’s gawking with a stern frown.
“Leave some of our officers out here as lookout,” Evander instructed the sergeant. “The rest can come with us.” He paused. “And Griffiths?”
“Yes, your Grace?”
“Have your truncheons at the ready.” Evander studied the building atop the rise warily. “We don’t know what we’ll find inside.”
The sergeant cut his eyes to the church. He dipped his head.
“Alright, your Grace.”
They started up the path, only to be met halfway by a small wiry man with thinning grey hair and watery blue eyes.
“Hello.” The priest’s gaze flitted curiously to the constables at the bottom of the hill before focusing on Evander and Rufus. “How may I help you, gentlemen?”
“Good morning, Father…” Rufus started.
“Smith.” The man smiled pleasantly. “It’s Father Smith.”
“We have cause to believe dark magic is being used on these premises,” Evander said. “We would like to examine the church and the outbuildings.”
The priest gasped and blinked rapidly.
“Oh! How terrible!” He pressed a hand to his chest, his voice flustered. “I have no idea where such awful rumours came from, but I can assure you that they are untrue!”
